Broken Pieces
by angelabaddon
Summary: Dean returns from Purgatory a year later but doesn't ambush his brother in Rufus's cabin. Nor does he find him with a woman in Kermit, Texas. Instead Dean finds his brother in a psychiatric hospital, diagnosed with multiple personality disorder, and he's determined to get his one and only Sam back.
1. Over the Rainbow

"You've improved over the last year Sam, tell me, what led to the moment when you switched?"

Sam shrugs, his large shoulders rising and falling but he doesn't let go of his legs that are currently pushed up to his stomach. He looks like a giant six year old in time out, hell, he kind of feels like it. He's been doing great, switching out at times is normal but he had gone months without a single one. They were even looking into releasing him when it all just fell apart.

She's patient with him, she has to be, any sort of conflict and her patient could be set off on something she says or does and while that is beneficial in a controlled environment to get a closer look at what was the starting point of his disorder, she needs to talk to the core personality right now. Dr. Richardson adjusts her legs, pulling herself forward to give Sam a more focused look, "I have on the records that you had a visitor minutes before the switch, was..." she looks down at her notes, "...Robert Plant the source of this, Sam?"

Amelia expects Sam to shrink back or close off, he usually does in their conversations, but instead he just smiles. God, his smile is beautiful. She doesn't know why he's smiling but it makes her want to smile too, "I take it Robert Plant is a good friend of yours?" Sam had mentioned he'd had relationships with many women before in their conversations, but the way he smiles at the mention of his name - a name that doesn't share his last name - looks like complete love and adoration. Wouldn't be the first time she's had a bisexual or homosexual patient.

"Yeah, very good friend," Sam's smile slowly falters but his mood is better, "I was shocked to see him was all."

She taps her pencil on her notes and reads them, "you switched to your second personality."

"The Cowardly Lion."

Usually patients come with names with their personalities already attached, Sam, he was a special case and all of his alters wanted to be called Sam as well. To differentiate them Amelia used numbers, Sam used The Wizard of Oz, she's still not sure why. He only has two other personalities: The Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion, as he calls them. She had asked that once, asked him who he thought Dorthy was and who the Scarecrow was but he had only shrugged. Amelia, with approval, pressed deeper into Sam's stability when he had named them using The Wizard of Oz to see if she can find any alternate personalities still hiding, but so far nothing.

"So, since you switched to the Cowardly Lion, that meant you were scared to see him, is that right?"

Sam shrugs again, Amelia wishes she could tie those shoulders down so she doesn't have to see him shrug anymore, but patience. She's patient.

"I was shocked, that's all."

"Sam, I can't help you if you don't talk. Whatever is on your mind, I'll listen. Whoever Robert Plant is, whatever he means to you, I need to know so I can help you."

Sam is silent for several minutes, nothing but the clock ticking on the wall to occupy the silence in the room. She lets him stay quiet, doesn't push, she knows Sam needs time to think what he wants and needs to say. They still have thirty minutes in this private session before he has to be back in his room and she doubts he'll stay completely silent for that long. He's done it before, but only in the early days of treatment, after weeks Sam had slowly gotten more responsive to her.

Finally, he speaks up and her hand goes straight to the pencil, "His name isn't Robert Plant. That's the lead singer to Led Zeppelin, one of his favorite bands."

"He used an alias?"

Sam nods, "he's my brother. Dean, the one I thought was dead for the past year."

Oh. No wonder he was so shocked to see him then, she writes it down in her notes. "Why do you think he used a fake alias instead of signing in to see you with his real name?" She knows that Sam had an unhealthy codependent lifestyle with his brother, and what she assumes to be the leading cause of his formation of DID, other factors aside. Whoever his brother is, the use of a fake name doesn't strike her as someone who should be near her patient. And the fact that Sam switched to his 'Cowardly Lion' personality only reinforces that.

Sam doesn't say anything and rests his head on top of his knees, looking into the distance of her office. Amelia sighs, she knows this look, this is the shutdown. He won't answer this question so she moves on. "Explain what happened today. In your own words, recount everything you possibly can. I don't have any appointments after you and I can request extra time if you need it."

Amelia thinks, for a brief second, that he isn't. That this shut down is permanent and he won't talk until the session is over, but he picks his head back up and sets his feet back onto the ground. Her pencil is ready to write on her notepad as Sam opens his mouth to talk.

* * *

"You keep your nose clean, Benny," Dean says with fondness in his tone as Benny pulls him into a hug. Their bond having formed in the midst of war is something Dean can't ever sever, but wartime relationships and real world relationships don't mix well - and he knows this. Personal experience. He parts ways with Benny that night, the cold October night air raising goosebumps all over his flesh.

He steals a car in some run down motel on the side of an interstate, he doesn't feel bad when he sees the baby seat sitting in the back of the car, whoever the family was that stopped at that motel can find another way to their destination. Dean needed the wheels, he blames it on his survival instincts - still urging him to take take take to survive.

His cellphone died in Purgatory, lasted one day without any power to hook it up to. It broke sometime in the first month, he didn't know when, he was too busy fighting for his life to notice it until one day he pulled out the slab of plastic with a cracked screen and a useless computer chip inside. But he knows Sammy's phone number by heart, and he hopes that whatever happened to Sam in the last year no Leviathan schemes or anything else made that phone number invalid.

It reminds him of the day he got out of Hell, pushing quarters from the stolen car into some payphone by a shitty stop 'n' go. The number goes to voicemail, so he leaves Sam a message, "Sam, it's me Dean. I know you're probably out there busy lookin' for me, but I'm back. Meet me at Rufus's cabin tomorrow." He hangs up, his message is blunt and to the point. He'll explain what happened at the cabin, no need to get emotional over a fucking pay phone.

Dean sets up salt lines at the cabin, prepares to test Sam to make sure it his Sam walking through that door, but Sam never shows. And that's when he starts getting restless, his life has been nothing but nonstop fighting and walking and running for the past year and just sitting around here waiting for his brother to show is making him pace back and forth.

Calling up Sam's number again, this time on a cheap cellphone at a gas station so Sam can freakin' call back, but he just gets his voice mail again. And again. And Again.

The cellphone gets flung to the wall, and he's on one of Sam's laptops that he had left in the cabin - why was it left in the cabin? – and types in the address for the GPS site for their phone service.

Abilene, Texas. It doesn't give him a street address, it's the last known location of the phone before it was turned off and that's enough of a lead for Dean.

He's back on the interstate before he knows it, flipping through radio stations because holy shit he can now. Dean can listen to anything he wants instead of the creepy howls of Gorilla Wolves and chilled breezes of Purgatory wind. The radio station rabbles on about the election coming up, Obama versus Romney but Dean can't muster enough care for something so mundane after his ass was almost mauled apart when it was Dean versus werewolf.

The car pushes the speed limit, he needs and wants to see his brother again so badly, but here he is again chasing him down just like he did when he popped out of Hell. Last time he was in some other dimension, Sam was drinking demon blood and fucking Ruby and doing god knows what while he was either the torturer or the victim on the rack. So whatever the hell Sam is doing now, it had better be him looking for a way to pop Dean out of Purgatory, and not guzzling down poison like its heroin.

Why the fuck didn't Sam just answer his damn phone, he's left him so many voice messages that he had to have noticed. Maybe he thought it was a trap, yeah, that's what it could've been. Sam just didn't trust the voice, maybe he thought it was some Crocotta spreading lies through the phone waves.

Dean runs through so many scenarios on his mind as he drives down the interstate, entering Texas, passing Dallas, and then entering Abilene. His body is tired but he needs to stay awake, anything can come around the corner and attack him so he needs to stay focused and find his brother.

There's nothing abnormal on the local papers, nothing fishy online, no electrical storms, no cattle mutilations, no odd deaths. So Sam mustn't be on a hunt here, must be doing something else then.

He's searching phone books, calling the operators, talking to the local bars, trying to find anything tying someone to his brother. There's absolutely nothing and now that he's out of Purgatory, he feels exhaustion and sleep wanting to take him into unconsciousness.

That's when he pulls into some shitty motel, walks in to find some teenaged kid manning the front desk, "one room," Dean states. He's not in the mood to strike up conversation with this guy, he wants a room, he wants to sleep, he wants to find Sammy.

But the fucker decides otherwise, "sure, you must've had quite the road trip huh?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Dean rubs his eyes and repeats himself, making sure this kid gets to the point, "one room. One bed."

The kid gets the point and rings him up, "cash or credit?"

"Credit."

His wallet survived the year in Purgatory, he'll need a new one though, he's not sure who clawed through the leather and it's still sticking together but anymore opening and closing that claw mark is going to grow and eventually fall apart.

"Dean Kobowski?"

"The one, the only."

The kid stares at him for a brief moment, "any relation to a Sam Kobowski?"

Oh, Dean is wide awake now, "what?"

He shakes his head and smiles, "sorry, nothing. It's just an odd last name and we had some other guy who racked up quite the bill in here and destroyed the hell out of that room. Never paid it."

"Is the room still like he left it?"

The teenager – Everett – now that he looks at the name tag, gives him a funny look, "yeah, me and my dad haven't had the chance to clean it up or fix it so we just kind of locked it away. Rainy day project I guess."

"That's the room I want."

Everett snorts a laugh, but it stalls when he sees that Dean is completely serious. "Seriously?"

"I'll pay for whatever damages plus the room fee."

"Sir, that's almost $1,500."

Ain't his credit card, "do it."

Everett gives him another funny look, slides the credit card through, hand it back and the key to Sam Kobowski's room.

It was trashed, there were holes in the way and the bed was torn apart – someone had stuck a knife in there and sliced through the mattress. But that, that is definitely Sam's clothes on the floor. There by the bed is one of Sam's old red plaid shirt with the stain on the back, okay, so Dean was the one who caused the stain by dripping burrito grease onto it, but he knew that shirt anywhere. They don't have many clothes in their dufflebags after all.

He looks around some more and doesn't find any remnants of a hunt anywhere on the walls of the hotel. It looks like there was a fight here though, something mean and nasty came for his brother and for the first time since he got back he felt fear. There was a reason Sam wasn't answering his phone, probably because he's…no, Dean did not come back from fucking Purgatory to find a dead brother. That thought is pushed out of his mind and he continues to look around.

There's no hint to where Sam had gone, but maybe the front desk kid did. Dean puts on his friendly con-man expression, "Hey, uhh, so what happened to this guy?"

"Went mental, that's what."

No, Dean is pretty sure he got into a fight, but he presses for more information anyways, "is he in jail?"

"Nah, the white coats took him. He's uhh…last I remember they took him down in the Abilene Psychiatric Center."

"Last you remember? When did this happen?"

Everett shrugs, "about a year ago. The guy was freakin' mental, he didn't seem like that at first but I dunno. People snap."

"A year ago? You've left that room like that for an entire year?"

"Business is slow, we don't have a lot of cash and we have plenty of rooms to give out. It's not high on my priority list, not when my dad is sick."

Dean nods, a fucking psychiatric center? He grunts out a rough "thank you," and returns back to his room. It's 11pm. Visiting hours are definitely closed right now, but he could try the phones, usually these places operate for 24 hours and the night shift crew don't exactly have much to do besides doing their rounds. He gives it a shot.

Finding their phone number on the website he calls them up, a male voice answers. "Abilene Psychiatric Center, nurse Ford speaking."

"Hi, I'm looking to confirm that one of the patients is still in your care at the hospital."

"Sir, if this isn't an emergency the regular operating hours are from-"

Dean cuts him off, doesn't have time for this shit, not when his brother could be dead right now, "I just need to know if you guys have a Sam Kobowski in your hospital. Please, I just got off from a fourteen hour shift and just now got a chance to call you guys. He's my friend and I'm worried about him."

There's silence on the other end, but he can hear fingers tapping on the keys, "yes, we have a Sam Kobowski here; thirty year old male. He's open to all visitors from five pm to six pm on the weekdays, four pm to six pm on weekends. I'm sorry sir, but the visiting hours are strict, you'll have to find a way to get off work tomorrow if you'd like to see him."

"That's okay, thanks." He hangs up. Relieved, his brother is still alive…but in a psychiatric center. Last time that had happened Lucifer was yelling in his head and Sam couldn't sleep for days, all Dean could do was watch it happen before his very eyes. But Castiel fixed that, he saw it fixed before his very eyes, so whatever happened and whatever this is – it's completely natural. "Shit," he mutters and he throws the cellphone down on the torn bed.

He has hours to kill but too wired up to sleep. Dean lays on the ground, not needing the bed anyways, he's been sleeping on the cold hard dirt of Purgatory for a year and this position only seems natural for him. Dean picks up Sam's shirt and places it under his head for a makeshift pillow and tries to sleep. There's an ache in his heart, worry that festers and grows for his brother, as sleep consumes him for the first time in four days.

Sam is allowed to have visitors, no matter what relation, which fares well for Dean since that means he's not violent and is probably doing well in this center. Heck, Dean could probably sign his little brother out today and hit the road if he wanted to. He's in high hopes, a very good mood ever since popping out of Legoland, he's slept, took a shower, ate breakfast (god he missed the sweet sweet taste of a glazed donut) and is currently sliding his fake identification card to the secretary to the hospital.

"You've never been here before, sir?" The lady asks, her name is Sherry, a pretty name. He doesn't have the urge to flirt though, his baby brother is in there and dammit, he needs him.

"No, first time. I'm here to see my friend, Sam Kobowski." A friend, he doesn't know what kind of files and history they have on Sam, but a brother coming out of nowhere? It would definitely set off the alarms, and his paranoia has been on high alert for the past year. His survival depends on it.

Sherry types something into the computer and smiles back up at him, "I'll have to call you in and get Sam's approval before I can let you inside. You can take a seat over there," she points to the waiting room chairs.

She picks up the phone but Dean doesn't sit, he paces. His heart is racing, whatever happened to his baby brother this past year, Dean can fix it. He's sure he can, he can put his brother in that car of his and hit the road. Just like old times. As if Purgatory never happened and he can put it behind him and Sam can put this hospital behind him.

"Robert Plant?" Sherry calls and Dean is at her desk in a matter of seconds, "you can go in. He's in the dayroom." She smiles fondly.

Dean smiles back while she swipes her card and let's Dean through the hallway.

The dayroom reminds him of the hospital he was in back when he was hunting a Wraith with Martin, he wonders briefly if Martin is still in a hospital like this and if he got any better the last time he saw him. But he drops that thought once he sees Sam, his hair is longer but his body still looks like he's in prime shape. Strong enough to hit the road again and fight monsters side by side with Dean, and Dean smiles at the idea. Smiles at Sam.

He walks towards his brother, and finally Sam looks up and registers Dean. And Dean is expecting Sam's beautiful smile to greet him, his big little brother to rise up from that chair he's sitting on and wrap his stupidly large arms around him in a tight hug, but what he expects and what he sees are two different things.

Instead of Sam racing over to greet him, there's a brief moment of confusion, then a glassy vacant look, and then he's sliding back in his chair, panicking and yelling, "no, no, no" over and over again before the chair slides under him and he falls to the ground.

Dean stops in his tracks and watches, hell, practically everyone besides the nurses and guards are staying put and watching. He can see a couple men in white in the corner of his eye run up to Sam, holding him down while he writhes and screams under their forced weight.

The nurse who let him in is the one taking him by the arm and trying to maneuver him out of the day room, "Sir. Sir. Sir." Dean finally looks from his screaming brother over to her, "I'm sorry, but you'll need to leave."

She keeps talking but he phases her out, her voice nothing but a low murmur under the screams and yells of his baby brother, who is currently being stabbed – fucking stabbed – with a needle and injected with whatever shit they have in there.

"You leave him alone!" Dean yells at them, but it's just added noise in the commotion in the day room. A male nurse takes him by the arm this time, and more forcefully takes him back into the visitor room. Dean's eyes are constantly on Sam as the male nurse leads him backwards into the hallway. He can see Sam's body relax under the drugs, the male nurses in white dragging him up and walking him out of the day room and into the hallway for the patient's rooms. Whatever the drug was, it's keeping Sam conscious, but relaxed enough so that his eyes are focused on Dean – and those eyes, fuck those eyes were not human the way Sam stared back at him like a frightened animal.

He lost eye contact with Sam and is now in the waiting room. And Sherry is pulling him aside now and sitting back down on her desk. Dean finally looks down at her and listens to what she's saying, "you'll be placed on a minimum 72 hour waiting period so we can talk to the patient and figure out what happened. After the 72 hours, you'll have no contact with the patient until he approves another visitation request or phone call from you," she slides his fake ID back to him. "Your visitation is on file, and I'm very sorry about your friend." She gives him a slight smile, "Sam did verbally approve your visitation when I called in, so…I'm not quite sure what happened."

Dean doesn't know when and how he ended up in the Impala, everything was sort of a drifted daze, and fucking hell. Seventy two hours? Seventy two fucking hours? And that's the minimum. Fuck.

He slams his hand against the wheel of his Impala, and another slam for good measure. And Dean finds himself driving around the center, finding entering and exit points, because he's going to bust his brother out. They can fix whatever this is when they are on the road, whatever this is, it can be fixed by Dean explaining where he was for the past year – he's sure of it. Determined and hopeful.


	2. Where Blue Birds Fly

The male nurse stays outside the door for this Sam, he wasn't violent but it was something Amelia wants to watch in case it escalates into something more. It's not a requirement, she has been in the same room with the third personality multiple times since he can disassociate at any time, but it's something she just feels more comfortable to have when she can. He hits on her (which occasionally makes her blush, this Sam has absolutely no filter), tries to escape the office from time to time, but for the most part he just sits there and watches her with this bored look on his face until he thinks of something clever and snarky to say.

She knows which Sam she'll be talking to today when the nurse leads him into the office and gives her a knowing look, "So, Sam. What brings you out today?"

"That worthless sack of shit kept crying all night so I just shut him up."

Amelia begins writing down her notes under 'Tin Man' and looks back up to his vacant looking eyes, "so what did you do all night after you were able to get some peace and quiet?" This Sam is an insomniac, doesn't sleep, she found that out about a month into treatment.

"Worked out all night."

His muscular body hasn't escaped Amelia's notice, if he wasn't her patient and fuck, if she wasn't married, she wonders how those muscles would look without those hospital scrubs on. She keeps it professional, "do you know why he was crying?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"Crying about his big brother coming back or something, god, this conversation is boring. How about we spice things up a bit, I'll answer your questions for every piece of clothing you take off."

"No," she states bluntly and carries on, "you said his big brother. Dean isn't your brother?"

Usually he just accepts the no and keeps on talking if she asks the right question, but today, Sam pulls his chair up closer to Amelia…he's never done this before. He's always respected the distance between them.

She's about to call for the male nurse to come in and take Sam away when he softly places his hands on her knees and slides his hands forward up her thighs. Amelia watches as his large hands slowly move, a mixture of shock and arousal keeps her sitting there, letting the third personality's hands move further and further till she notices that this Sam is starting to spread her thighs apart.

She jumps out of her chair immediately and walks around, keeping her chair as some sort of shield from Sam, and she knows she should be calling for the male nurse outside to take Sam away, "you've been here for a year and you've never done that before. Why now?"

Sam stays seated, there's an aggression in the eyes, a fevered want that doesn't have any emotional attachment to it. Just primal urges. "Cause I want to fuck you."

Amelia keeps her eyes on him and stays standing, maybe if she turns it back to a professional question he'll drop it: "Is Dean your brother?"

The Tin Man sighs and slumps back into his chair, "you really don't know how to have any fun, do you?"

"I'm married, Sam. And you're my patient."

Sam laughs again, no emotion to it and it sounds so fake, and he repeats, "like I said, you really don't know how to have any fun."

One more time and she'll call for the male nurse, "is Dean your brother?"

He stares at her for several seconds, she's still standing and she'll probably sit back down if he answers, so he does: "Biologically yes."

Sam fights the urge to smirk because he was right: Amelia is slowly walking around the chair now. "Then why did you say his 'brother'?"

"I don't give a rat's ass about Dean. He's good at what he does and he's useful but I get along just fine without him. Biologically he's my brother but I have no attachment to him to call him that."

Amelia scoots her chair back and she takes her seat, bringing the notepad onto her lap, her hands shake nervously as she writes down her notes, she can feel Sam's eyes staring at her like she's a piece of meat, "how do you feel about Dean possibly coming back and visiting you?"

"I don't."

"You don't what?"

"I don't feel."

Amelia taps her pen on her notepad, she already knows this, there's a sort of sociopathic nature to the Tin Man personality but she presses on anyways. She was never able to get an answer for this question from any of the personalities, but with Dean coming back from supposedly being dead it's worth a shot to ask again: "so, what does Dean do for a living?"

"He's a construction worker."

She writes that down, finally, a job occupation for the long lost brother. She tries the next question that never got an answer before: "And what do you do for a living?"

Sam just stares at her and smiles, it's a fake smile, plastered onto his face like a mask, "I'm locked in the looney bin."

By the time the session is over, she hadn't really gotten anywhere with the third personality, and it seems like Dean's arrival yesterday had triggered a relapse in Sam's psyche. All three personalities, including the core, had surfaced within 48 hours.

Sam is escorted away by the male nurse and she has quiet in her office now. Amelia tries to focus on her work, typing her notes and transferring them to the computer, but the lingering sensation of Sam's hands on her thigh keeps her distracted.

What kind of fucked up doctor let's a patient, a patient who is currently relying on another personality to cope with trauma, slide his damn hands up her thighs? She closes her eyes and berates herself for letting him go that far. She should have called for the male escort right when Sam pulled his chair forward.

But god, the way he looked at her, capturing her attention like a deer in the headlights. The way his large hands slowly moved up her thighs, the pressure of his grip. Amelia feels arousal spread between her thighs and pulls her attention back to her work.

* * *

Amelia places all her pens, pencils, sharp objects, into one of her drawers and locks it. Sam's second personality is extremely unstable compared to the core personality and the third personality and she needs to be sure he has nothing to inflict self-harm onto himself. He's done it before, the scars on his wrists and hands show it clearly.

The core Sam walks himself into her office today, knocks on her door and smiles at her, "Sam, hi. How are you today?"

She motions to the chair and Sam takes it, "Excited, the 72 hour thing on my brother is lifted today and I really want to see him again."

"You're not worried about disassociating again?"

Sam shrugs, makes an exaggerated frown, "no, it was just the shock of seeing him again when I thought he was dead. I'll be fine."

She honestly doubts it, and wants to know more about what happened three days ago: "I would like to talk to your second personality today, Sam, is that okay?"

She already knows he's going to shake his head no and when he does she presses, "I need to know what your second personality experienced Sam, I know it's difficult for you but you need to trust me. Okay? Nothing will harm you here."

He stares at her for a few seconds and then slowly nods. Sam is silent for several seconds as his eyes take a dazed look and it's almost instantaneous how quickly the second personality surfaces.

The Cowardly Lion shoots out of the chair and runs behind it, hiding, "it's too dark in here. Too dark. It's too dark in here."

Amelia slowly stands up and walks to the window, keeping her eyes on Sam. Then she slowly draws up the blinds on the windows, letting the sunlight fill the room. She keeps her voice tone soft for this personality, "let's bring our chairs over to the window. Come on."

He's holding onto the chair and slowly steps towards her, taking the chair with him. It's their routine and it helps this Sam open up to her and relearn to trust her when she brings more light for him.

Amelia takes her chair and sets it across from Sam's next to the window. He's still not sitting and is instead peering out of the window, "I'm still locked in here. I'm never going to see the outside. I miss the outside."

"The other two still won't let you out in the yard?"

His voice is shaky and quiet, "He thinks I'll freak out if I see a butterfly so he gags and chains me up."

"He? Which one Sam?"

Sam starts pacing back and forth in the office, "that soulless dickbag. It is so hot in here, why is it so hot in here?"

"I'll turn the A/C down for you." He flinches when she stands up, but she slows her movement down and walks over to the thermometer and turns it down to 55 degrees. "Is that better? You can stand under the vent if you like."

He flops right down onto the ground under the A/C vent and sits cross legged under the cool breeze. She can see the sweat stains on his back and armpits and has previously written it off as stress sweat.

"Sam, do you know why I want to talk to you today?"

"I freaked out."

"Why, Sam?" Silence. "Was it because you were shocked to see your brother again?" Sam shakes his head 'no'. "What went through your mind three days ago?"

He's staring at the A/C vent like it's the most precious thing he's ever seen, "I'm not allowed to tell you. If I tell you, you'll tell him."

"Tell who?"

"The human Sam."

This peaks her curiosity, none of the Sam's have ever been particular talkative about their life story so this is definitely a new thing to push at, "I promise not to tell human Sam."

Tears begin to slide down the second personality's cheek and he gets up and paces around the room, "I don't want to think about it. If I think about it then it starts to burn."

"What starts to burn?"

"My flesh, it burns off. It catches on fire and I scream but nobody hears. Nobody ever hears! Nobody but Adam hears and I hear him scream too."

Her eyes follow Sam as he paces around the room, crying and pulling at his hair and she wonders if Adam is one of his alternate personalities that have never been mentioned before, "Adam? Who's Adam, Sam?"

Sam starts tugging on his shirt now, he's dripping with sweat, "he's my half-brother and he's burning in Hell still." To her surprise, he starts laughing but it's more of hysteria than a humorous laugh, "we just left him in there to burn. Just keeps burning. And we aren't doing a thing to stop it."

Amelia doesn't have her notepad with her today, didn't want him to have access to any pens, but religious paranoia is something new for his file. She stands up from her chair and slowly walks towards him, keeping her distance. "Why do you think Adam is burning in Hell?"

"You're not allowed to know."

"How come?"

"Because then you'll know the truth. And you'll die because the truth always kills the people who know."

Amelia shakes her head, "no, the truth can't kill anyone Sam. You can tell me, I'll be okay. And you'll be okay."

Sam spins around quickly and runs to the thermometer, wildly pressing the buttons, but the temperature won't budge. Fifty-five is the lowest setting it will go and Amelia watches his frustration grow as the numbers stay the same, "Sam, we go over this every session. Fifty-five is its lowest setting. But I got an ice pack for you, you want an ice pack?"

He looks like a giant child, the way his shoulders slump and he nods his head. She grabs an ice pack from her mini-fridge and takes it too him, "come on, let's sit down and you can hold onto the ice pack."

Amelia sits next to him on the floor and watches him as he presses the ice pack to his sweat socked hair, "do you trust me that I'll be okay if you tell me the truth Sam? It won't harm me, I promise." He nods and she asks the question again: "Why do you think Adam is burning in Hell?"

"Sam dragged him there."

"Why would Sam drag Adam to Hell?"

"Because of Michael," Sam turns to face her and his eyes widen, "you can't ever mention Michael. We're not allowed to talk about him, Sam doesn't know about Michael."

"Is Michael another personality?"

Sam throws the ice pack against the wall, stands up, and begins pacing again, "I told you not to mention Michael!"

"Sam, if he's another personality I need to know. It's to help you. Will you let me speak to him?"

Sam starts digging through her desk and files, looking for some sharp object most likely, "I need a pen. Where are the pens?"

"If you want to write or draw I have crayons, do you want crayons Sam?"

"No, I wanna leave. I wanna get out of here!" He slams his hands against the desk and then his facial expressions soften and he begins sobbing, "Let me out please. I just wanna see Dean again. I just wanna see Dean. Let me see Dean. Please."

She nods, this is probably as far as she'll be able to get with the second personality but he did reveal more information that could help guide Sam's further treatment, "you saw him three days ago, do you remember that?"

Sam shakes his head.

"Sam, when was the last time you've seen Dean?"

"A long time ago."

It's the same answer he always gives, he usually stops talking if she presses for him to be more specific but since he's spilled so much already it's worth another shot: "how long ago? How many months?" Sam remains silent. "How many years?" Still silent. "How many decades?"

"I lost count."

"You lost count of what?"

"How many decades it's been."

The Tin Man and the core Sam personality gave their ages without a hitch but the Cowardly Lion had remained silent when she had asked. But this Sam acts as if he's a frightened child but if he's lost count of decades then maybe his mental age is older. "How old are you, Sam?"

"Really old."

"Can you give me an estimate?"

"I think I'm 5,000 years old," he's tugging on his shirt again, waving it to get some air flow onto his sweat slick skin.

"You know humans can't live that long, right Sam?"

"I know."

"So how can you be 5,000 years old but you look like you are thirty?"

His body heat becomes too much, the heat is spreading and he just needs relief. He needs cool air on his burning flesh. His burning soul. Sam takes off his shirt, throws it on the floor and starts scratching at his chest and belly, clawing to get it out, "it's my soul. It's burning and it's hot and it's old and it's broken. Get it out. Get it out of me please. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts-" He stops talking and stands there in silence for a couple of seconds before spitting out: "Holy shit he's so fucking annoying."

"Sam, do you know why his soul hurts?" She's trying very hard not to look at his shirtless chest and keeps her eyes on his.

The Tin Man looks down and grabs his shirt off the floor, "ain't got a clue. I'm freezing my ass off in here though."

Amelia walks over to the thermometer and clicks the buttons to raise it back to 70 degrees, she can feel Sam's eyes watching her movements as he puts his shirt back on. "Do you know who Michael is?"

"Yeah," Sam drags his chair out from by the window and sits down.

"Can you tell me about him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd think I'm crazy if I do."

Amelia drags her chair away from the window as well and keeps it at the usual distance for the third personality, she can be blunt with this personality, "yeah, they might lock you up Sam."

He gives her a vacant grin, "Michael is an archangel."

Yeah that's true, but she wants to know about the other Michael, "There's not a fourth person in there named Michael?"

"Nope. Just the archangel."

"Why can't Sam know about Michael?"

"He's a spineless sap who can't handle the truth."

Amelia nods, it doesn't make any sense to her what Michael the archangel has to do with Sam and Dean, but it is more information than she had ever gotten in one session, "and what is that truth?"

The third personality says nothing and he blankly stares at the floor, a couple seconds pass and the core Sam emerges and snaps his head back up and looks around the office, "I'm tired."

"You've had a long day huh? How about you go take a nap so you won't be tired when you see Dean this evening?"

Sam slowly nods and stands up, he notices his sweaty shirt and damp hair, "and a shower…"

Amelia gives him a fond smile, "yeah, and a shower. I'll see you tomorrow."

She wants to ask him about Michael, but breaking the trust between her and the other alters isn't something she wants to risk, not when they have been so open today.

Sam exits her office without another word.


	3. The Tornado

Dr. Richardson used the term 'black outs' whenever Sam switches personalities but wakes up in another location or when time passes and he was never aware of it happening. They aren't true black outs though, his body is still moving and his brain is functioning perfectly fine, it's just another aspect of Sam takes over in the form of another personality. That's how his doctor described it for him, making it a firm reality that this is his life now, that this isn't some sort of supernaturally caused condition.

Sam wakes up in a hotel room, he doesn't realize it at first but he focuses on the soft hum of the cars on a nearby interstate and he looks up at the crappy popcorn ceiling, definitely not his room in this hospital. His ceiling had been completely smooth there.

He slowly sits up and looks around at his surroundings, unsure of how and why he's in a hotel room and not back in the hospital – he's sure he was just there; he was just leaving Amelia's office and heading back towards his room.

"Mornin' Sammy," Dean says at the nearby motel table where a range of weapons lay on the table.

There's a cotton-y taste in his mouth, as if he had been gagged for hours and his wrists hurt, Sam looks down at his wrists but there aren't any marks or bruises, "I'm in a hotel room."

Dean picks up on of his glocks and quickly dissembles it, "no place like home," his voice is harsher.

Sam realizes he's staring at his older brother, for the first time in almost a year. He's finally looking at him with no other personality pushing him down into unconsciousness, "I never thought I'd see you again," Sam realizes he's almost sobbing now. It's almost pathetic.

He's about to get up from his bed, go over there and hug his brother, when Dean just snorts, "well, ain't gonna ditch your ass while you're sleeping. Course you'd see me again," Dean laughs and turns his attention back to the gun, "I found another case by the way, it's over on the table."

"Another case?" Sam feels nausea spreading in his belly, the urge to throw up and kick something, do anything to let out this feeling of lost time growing inside of him.

"Yeah, probably a poltergeist," Dean's voice is brimming with excitement, "we don't get many of those."

Sam slowly rises from his bed and, with his hands shaking, he picks up the newspaper. He doesn't look for what Dean is talking about and instead looks at the date on the top of the paper.

Two weeks.

One of his alternate personalities was fucking riding his body for two whole damn weeks. Sam drops the paper onto the floor and runs to the bathroom, throwing up whatever the hell his other personality ate last night.

Dean's hand is on his back, rubbing circles on his tense back muscles, "you okay Sammy?" His brother wads up a ball of bathroom tissue and hands it to Sam. He wipes the remaining sick off and goes to rinse out his mouth under the tap.

Sam is silent for a moment, running through all the possible things he could do to explain to Dean what happened. On one hand, he hasn't seen him in over a year but on the other, Sam has technically been with Dean for two weeks. Who knows what the other person in his body had done. Or if it would freak Dean out or heck, Dean would just give him that look, that same fucking look that he did when his brother realized his little Sammy wasn't purely human.

"I'm fine," he finally mutters.

"If you're sick we can stay in town for a couple more days. I can call Garth and he can get someone else on the job."

Sam tries to process the information, "Garth…right…no, I'm fine. It must've just been food poisoning."

They're in the Impala now, Sam didn't even remember where he had placed it before he was locked into the hospital but it seems like one of the others remembered and brought Dean right back too it. He runs his hand over the sleek frame of their car, another thing he hadn't seen in over a year, and Sam realizes now how much he misses the leathery smell that reminds him so much of home and Dean and his childhood.

During the silence on the interstate, Sam figures out that it must have been the Tin Man who took over control for those two weeks. From what Dr. Richardson describes, he's not too different from himself. The other personality tends to be more blunt, focused on physical sensations rather than emotional, and has also made several escape attempts from the hospital.

"Dean?"

"What's up?"

Sam chews lightly on his bottom lip, nervous on how to even ask Dean this question without raising suspicion of his condition, "Have I seemed different lately?"

Dean shifts in his chair to briefly look at Sam before turning his attention back onto the road, "same pain in the ass little bro I've ever known."

There's nothing in Dean's demeanor to show that Sam had been acting odd for the past two weeks, and the way his older brother is acting – like he didn't just black out for the past 2 weeks – makes him feel as if this whole thing was just a weirdly vivid nightmare. Some nightmare where Sam had lost Dean for an entire year and was locked in a mental hospital because his damn mind just couldn't cope anymore with a life without his brother.

His mental reliability hasn't been the most accurate thing as of lately, so he needs to make sure that it wasn't a false reality, "Do you know someone named Dr. Richardson?"

"That dumbass doctor who kept you locked up in that place for a year? Yeah, I know someone named Dr. Richardson." The name was practically spit out, as if Dean held a personal grudge against Amelia. Sam didn't think that was fair, she had only tried to help him after all. "Why? You don't wanna go back to that freakin' prison do you? I mean the way you described it before I broke you outta there it sounds like they were just keeping you there like you were Jack Nicholson or something."

Oh, it was definitely the Tin Man then. Sam rubs his temples, as if he could feel the other personality moving around in his head. "No, I don't. I don't want to go back."

He feels betrayed by the other Sam. They both knew that Sam was looking forward to seeing Dean again, holding him in an embrace for the first time in a year, and that's when he realizes that he still doesn't even know where Dean was for the past year.

And he's sure, deep down in the other personality, he knows because it's been two weeks and something like that just doesn't get ignored for that long. But approaching Dean on the subject is a bit harder to do, there's a feeling that wherever Dean was it was something big and something Sam shouldn't have forgotten.

Tired, he places his head on the window of the Impala, watching the landscape zoom past. It was oddly calming amidst the storm inside his body. He's curious, damn curious as to where Dean was for the past year, but Sam figures it will be something he can approach at another time.

They're in Denver, Colorado when they stop and Dean grabs another motel. He drops his bags on his bed and then flops down onto the mattress with a sigh.

Sam follows into the hotel, placing his bags on the floor and sitting down on the bed across from Dean's. He starts rummaging through his duffle bag and backpack, hoping to find some sort of clue to point out what his other alternate had been doing for the past 2 weeks. No receipts, no hand written notes, definitely no more journal like the one his doctor had been adamant about him keeping so he didn't lose track of himself. There is nothing inside the bags but clothes, toiletries, and an almost empty box of condoms.

The fact that he'd already had sex with this many girls – or hell – even guys if that's what his other personality was into, while he'd been out like a light for 2 weeks makes him want to feel sick. Like his body was being controlled and used by some other being without his permission. He feels his heart start to beat faster and a headache forming at his temples when Dean cuts off his train of thought: "Any word on Kevin?"

"What?" Sam's attention snaps back to the hotel room and his brother who is currently staring at him, he heard what Dean said but didn't quite understand.

"Kevin, check your laptop. Do whatever it is you do that tracks the son of a bitch."

Right. Kevin Tran. Sam wonders what that teenager has been up to for the past year, while Dean was god knows where and Sam was – according to his other personality – being like Jack Nicholson.

He flips open his laptop, hoping to find whatever kind of files he has on Kevin and can backtrack from there. Dr. Richardson was right though, the Tin Man is almost exactly like himself. The tracking pattern and the codes he uses are the exact same that Sam himself uses.

There are tracked credit card numbers, phone GPS tracking numbers, and a bunch of other smaller details to put together a puzzle to place where ever this former advanced placement student is currently hiding. Sam has no clue why he would be hiding, not when he and Dean are his best bet for survival in a world full of angels and demons, but he pushes that aside and focuses on the task at hand.

"Last credit card tracking was in Phoenix, Arizona. That was three days ago."

Dean sighs and groans, "no change then?"

Sam nods, taking Dean's cue as this piece of information was something the Tin Man had already shared with Dean, "no change."

"He'll pop up sooner or later. Just gotta keep lookin'. Damn kid."

A complete sense of loss and confusion takes over Sam again, black outs were manageable in the hospital. The doctors and staff helped him backtrack and keeping a journal of his activity – even in other personalities - made black outs seem like they were just like falling asleep for a little while and finding out you slept walk.

But this? This was a complete mess. He couldn't ask Dean for information; he couldn't risk Dean thinking that he's just some sick freak who can't even manage living in this world without breaking. God, this is all Sam does. All he does is break things and this time he has gotten so far off the deep end that his mind couldn't even take it anymore and it broke itself.

Sam holds back another sob, he needs to keep control of himself. One slip up of emotion or one false move could send another personality forward and he would just be plunged into darkness.

Meds would help, Dr. Richardson had prescribed him meds and he's not sure if it was just a placebo effect or they actually worked but he didn't care. He needed them to make it through his hunt with Dean.

He just hopes that the Tin Man at least considered this and even though he broke himself out of the hospital against Sam's wishes, there's a faint sense of hopefulness that his personality did do something good for once and brought along his pill bottles.

There's an action movie on, Die Hard, and Sam looks over and watches Dean. He's currently lying up against the headboard of the hotel bed, a beer in his hands and fuck – when the hell did this even happen? A second ago Dean was just lying on the bed but it looks like his beer bottle is already almost empty.

Sam digs through his bags, faster and faster, panic spreading through his veins with each passing second that he doesn't find his medication.

Dean takes notice and sits up, "lookin' for a pair of panties Sam?" He laughs, but it falters when he sees Sam turn around with a deadly glare on his face. He's getting up from the bed now, "Sam? What's wrong?"

"I can't find my meds."

"What meds?"

Sam flings the backpack against the wall, contents spilling out and landing on the floor, "I can't-"

That's when Dean places a hand on Sam's shoulder, something firey and painful and oh god it hurts. Sam yelps him pain, falling backwards out of his brother's touch and landing on the bed.

It almost would've been comical, the way Sam's body bounced on the mattress, but instead Dean just stared at him wide-eyed. Staring down at Sam, who's currently sprawled and shaking with his face pushed into the mattress. It was like watching a damn melodrama, but Dean keeps the snide comment to himself, something is definitely not right here.

Sam has been fine for the past two weeks. Hell, they hadn't had any arguments of any kind after they hit the road after busting Sam out of thatprison. He had never made any mention of medication and definitely never had these kinds of outbursts.

Dean didn't know what to do, but he sat down next to his brother on the bed and softly placed a hand on Sam's back. Wrong move.

Sam is pulling away, wide-eyed and almost animalistic. He's huddled against the headboard of the bed, "don't touch me. P-please."

He's never seen Sam like this, but he puts his hands up in the air in a surrender, he won't touch Sam, "what's wrong, Sam?"

"It hurts."

Dean notices that whatever is wrong with Sam, it's making him act like a confused and hurt toddler than a damn 30 year old man. It's the same wide-eyed animal he saw back at the hospital, when he first laid his eyes on Sam. And now, for the first time, he realizes that that wasn't just a brief shock of seeing his brother alive again. No. This is something he's on freakin' medication for. The same medication Sam was looking for.

He's silent and contemplative for several moments before swallowing and asking, "what hurts?"

"It burns…when you touch me."

Slightly taken aback, he remembers touching Sam many times these past two weeks and Sam had never done whatever this was, "okay, okay…how about we find your meds, huh Sam?"

Sam says nothing, just continues to look at him, watching his every move as Dean motions towards Sam's bags which are currently open and clothes and other things are sprawled across the floor of the hotel.

He's digging around in Sam's personal things when he comes across an orange medication bottle, with a few pills still inside. Dean reads the label, not sure what these medications are for, the scientific name of the medications don't ring any bells for what Sam is currently experiencing but it says to take two with a glass of water per day.

Slowly, he extends his hand out towards Sam, who's still drawn into himself against the headboard of the bed and curled up into himself instead of relaxed. Sam hesitates but quickly grabs the pill bottle away from Dean and holds it against his chest.

"I'm gonna go get you a glass of water, okay?"

He fills up one of the crappy plastic hotel cups with tap water from the sink and slowly places it on the nightstand next to Sam's bed.

Sam's eyes don't leave Dean once. He's tracking every movement, careful not to let his guard down around him.

Dean watches, helpless, as Sam wrestles with taking the cap off the bottle. Whatever this is, it's practically made his little brother into a weak child.

"Lemme take the cap off Sam."

Sam doesn't say anything and continues to try and take the cap off himself, "You gotta push down and then twist."

He shoots Dean a glare but then goes back to it, following his instructions and getting the cap off. His hands are still so shaky but he manages to get two pills out, places them in his mouth, and then he drinks the water.

Dean doesn't expect the medication to automatically snap Sam out of whatever the hell just happened, and he's right. Sam sits against the headboard, fucking crying and scratching at himself, for several more minutes before he passes out into sleep.

Quietly and slowly, he peels the bottle out of Sam's hand and stares at the label. Dean reads off Dr. Richardson's name as the prescriber and the medication as 'Xanax.'

He takes Sam's laptop to his own bed and types 'Xanax' into google. Dean still didn't understand why they kept him in a damn mental hospital for a year for freakin' anxiety attacks, not when Sam was clearly functional for the past two weeks. Dean looks over at the other bed, at his little brother who is passed out on the bed, lying the wrong way on the queen size mattress.

All Dean wants to do is move Sam around so that he can fit under the covers, but he can't risk waking him up again, not when the medications had kicked in and calmed him down. And definitely not when his brother was practically shaking in fear because Dean simply touched him.

Dean drinks the rest of the beer left and places the bottle of pills on the night stand next to Sam. Panic and anxiety attacks or not, this isn't something he can just ignore, and Sam needs to know that. He just hopes that they will be able to discuss this tomorrow morning without another outburst like this.


	4. The Yellow Brick Road

Dean watches Sam sleep as he browses the internet for another case for them to take, really, it should be the last thing on his mind after finding out that his brother is taking medication for anxiety – something he would have never believed if he didn't see what happened to Sam just last night.

Really, he should have seen it coming, he saw what Sam did in the dayroom of the hospital, but he supposes wishful thinking got the better of him. The want and desire to get home from Purgatory to a brother who is happy to sit shotgun with him, driving down the interstate, doing what they do best.

Things had been good between them for the past few weeks, sure sometimes it felt like he wasn't talking to his Sammy and some fake imposter but he shrugged it off to him still being wired from his year spent in Purgatory.

He realizes now, it wasn't. Something is off about his brother. The sudden shift from a calm hunter to this scared child currently sleeping on the hotel bed definitely set off an alarm.

When Sam shifts on the bed and wakes up, Dean finally registers the chirp of the morning birds and the morning light trickling in through the curtains. This isn't something they can push aside, "hey Sammy, how you feeling?"

Sam looks at him with bewilderment, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, not the usual wake-up call Sam gets from his brother, "okay? I guess?"

Dean stands up and throws the orange pill bottle to Sam, who catches it. The events last night were a blur to Sam but Dean knowing about his anxiety meds makes his heart skip a beat.

"Why were you in that mental hospital, Sam? And don't tell me they nurse Ratched'ed you again."

He should tell Dean, he deserves the truth, he should be back in there in the hospital. Shit he can't even remember what the other inside of himdid the last few weeks after breaking him out. But he knows that Dean wouldn't understand, just like he didn't understand the hallucination of Lucifer torturing his mind. It's not curable, there's no Castiel this time to come and save him from this, it's his own damn head doing this to himself and only Amelia could help him battle it.

"I had some…issues, after you disappeared, Dean. And I got help from them. It got better, I just...sometimes I lose myself is all."

Dean gives him that wary look, that unsure look as if he doesn't believe Sam. "I need you to watch my back, Sam. Can't just leave you back there doped up playing chess in a robe all your life," Dean gives Sam a forced laugh and a shy smile, "but I'm also worried about you, man. I know this life can wear down on us, God knows I know, but if you're not okay you need to tell me."

"Okay," he responds quietly with a nod. Sam pushes himself from the bed and is about to place his pills back into his backpack when he sees the mess of his clothes and other things sprawled on the floor, "what the hell happened last night?"

"You don't remember?"

Sam doesn't respond, just stares at the mess for a while longer and starts to pick up the pieces of clothing, shoving them back into the bag before finally placing the pill bottle in one of the zipper pockets.

Dean is about to press the question again when Sam turns around and asks, "If there was something wrong with me...something incurable? What would you do?"

He smiles fondly, "No such thing as incurable, Sam. I'd find a cure." Dean thinks it's the right answer for a few seconds, but as Sam turns away from him with a grimace on his face and steps into the bathroom without another word, Dean realizes it was definitely the wrong answer.

Silently, he wonders why the heck Sam would be disappointed in Dean for him simply wanting to save his brother. He'd do anything for Sam, and if his forty years in Hell ain't proof of that then he doesn't know what is.

The shower turns on from the bathroom and Dean pushes away thoughts of his brother and tries to search for any clues towards Kevin's location or any resemblance of a hunt again. But his search is interrupted by his cellphone ringing and his expression falls when he reads the name.

"Benny?" He asks in a hushed whisper, even though Sam wouldn't be able to hear him over the spray of the water.

"Hey, Dean…you got a minute?" His voice sounds pained and hoarse, but Dean keeps an eye on the bathroom door while Benny continues: "afraid I messed up, Buddy."

Dean's heart speeds up, he put faith and trust on this vampire and brought him back to Earth and whoever this human was that Benny harmed was on him. But it can't be that, anything but that, "what did you do?"

Benny forces out a harsh laugh on the other end of the phone, "No, man, not like that."

The bathroom door opens and Sam gives Dean a puzzled look when he sees him on the phone, but he ignores is mostly in favor of getting some clothes on instead of dripping on the hotel carpet with a towel wrapped around his hips. He digs through his bag for clothes and hears Dean tell the person on the other end: "hold on, I got shitty reception over here."

Dean mouths 'I'll be outside' to Sam, who nods and goes back to fishing out clothes, as Dean leaves the room.

* * *

As soon as Dean steps outside and Sam is pulling up a pair of denim jeans, the Tin Man makes an appearance, sitting on his bed. Hallucinations, Dr. Richardson said, are a common symptom of DID but aside from Lucifer yelling in his ear after the dam in his head broke and the occasional hallucination in the early days of treatment in the hospital, he never had to deal with them.

"I want my body back," the Tin Man says, it's cold and emotionless. The Sam without a soul stares at Sam with dead-like eyes.

He doesn't respond to the Tin Man and instead pulls a shirt on over his head, if there's one thing he learned from hallucinations of Lucifer it was not to give them any lee way. Better to pretend they aren't there. They would get bored eventually and hide back inside the darkness of his mind instead.

Sam, aware of the other Sam staring at him with a predator stare, ignores him and turns on the TV to drown out his thoughts.

Instead of him going away, the other moves closer and sits right next to him, "Dean didn't even notice there was something off about you until you got back in control again. I'm a better Sam than you ever would be."

Sam turns the TV up louder.

Both Sam's quickly turn to look at Dean as he opens the front door to the motel room, "jeez Sam, you going deaf there, old man?"

He turns the TV down and watches as Dean picks up his bag, "did you find a case?"

"No, I gotta go."

Sam stares at the Tin Man for a couple of seconds, he wants to punch that dead smirk on his face, before turning to Dean, "what the hell do you mean…you got to go?"

"Which words are giving you trouble?"

"See? As soon as you're the one back in control he wants to ditch your ass," the Tin Man coldly remarks.

Sam tries to ignore him, but there's a tightness in his chest growing, "we're on a case, remember? The – the Winchester 'holy grail' case? Shutting the gates of Hell case? The finding Kevin case?"

"Yeah, exactly. And to close the gates of Hell we need to find Kevin first. And since his trail is colder than Jack Frost's dick than for the time being, I'm getting some good ole R and R." Dean walks out of the door with his bags quicker than Sam can respond, so Sam follows him outside of the hotel.

"Wait, Dean, seriously?"

Whatever happened last night, with Sam not wanting Dean to touch him or hell, even be around him, he thinks it's better that Sam doesn't get involved. Especially when it comes to Benny, who Sam would be able to take down easily, anxiety attacks or not. "You're better at computers and tracking that kid so you got some research to do and I got some personal crap I got to take care of. That's all."

Sam still doesn't even know where the hell Dean has been for the past year, and he hopes the question won't sound odd and will give him some answers, "What personal crap?"

"Personal, as in my own personal business crap, I'll be back in a day," Dean shuts the Impala door before Sam can push into what he's doing.

Dean drives and doesn't look at Sam's fading figure in the rearview mirror.

And Sam does what he does best and is looking at old credit card statements from a "Kevin Park" a fake name so no one would be able to track him but Sam has a decent trail on him to pick up Kevin's new pseudonyms with relative ease.

Something moves in the corner of his eye, and Sam looks up. Startled he pushes his chair backwards, but he quickly calms down. The Cowardly Lion this time, but still just a hallucination, "take me back," the huddled Sam mutters out.

He can't go back to the hospital, not when Dean needs him…or a part of him, he's not sure anymore if the Tin Man had a point there. But he can't listen to them, he can't leave Dean, and yet Sam finds himself staring at Amelia Richardson's driver's license with her home address printed on it.

It's Sam who breaks into someone's car and drives down the interstate towards Texas, fully conscious of what he's doing, and he's the one who is knocking on Amelia's door several hours later, mostly by speeding.

Amelia had been his anchor for the past year, their meetings in the office had broken through a lot of walls that Sam had barricaded against her. For the most part, she knows everything about Sam, aside from the supernatural aspects of his life.

So finding himself in front of her door of her house in Texas sounded like a good idea at the time, but as it swings open and her eyes lay on Sam, he wants to simultaneously run away but stay.

"Sam?" She slowly says, "what are doing here?"

"I've been hallucinating…again…"

Amelia's eyebrows furrow up with worry and apprehension, she looks back into her house briefly and then turns to Sam, "come on in." She moves aside for him, and Sam walks through the vestibule of her home.

It's nice, and he never expected anything less from a well-paid doctor married to another well-paid doctor, and Sam continues down the hall with Amelia following.

She briefly looks at her home phone on the wall next to the kitchen, the thought crossing her mind to get the cops to take Sam back to the hospital instead of letting him linger in her own home, which was supposed to be completely separated off from her patients.

Amelia watches Sam linger in the living room, "take a seat. Do you want anything? Water? Soda?"

"Water, please."

She nods and grabs a water bottle from the fridge, hands it to Sam who is sitting on the corner of her couch, and she takes the one-seated chair across from him, "what happened Sam?"

"I've been seeing them both, just them talking to me."

Amelia would be taking notes if she had been in the office, but nothing is in her lap except for her nervous hands, "Sam, let's start at the beginning. Because we were all very worried about you when you disappeared. Where did you go?"

"I don't know. I pieced some of it together…but one minute I was leaving your office and the next I was in a hotel with my brother and several weeks had passed."

"You blacked out for several weeks?"

Sam nods his head and picks at the label on the water bottle, "I think it was the Tin Man. He's been wanting to escape ever since I got here."

She takes a deep breath and examines Sam, for the most part he looks healthy and well, but she knows mental illness doesn't necessarily take a physical appearance so she needs to be careful so that Sam doesn't feel unwanted, "Sam, I'm glad you're back. But, I think you'll be much better in the hospital instead of in my house."

"I know…but I can't. I can't leave my brother."

Amelia didn't have to guess on that one, she had assumed ever since Sam's disappearance that his brother had been the cause, "tell me about the hallucinations."

Sam tells her about both the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion appearing only when Dean was out of the room, but disappears when he comes back.

She nods with understanding, Sam's disassociation is linked to abandonment of his brother, too much reliance and codependency as an underlying cause for his current state, "what about right now? Are you seeing them right now?"

Sam ignores the question and continues, "Dean just left me, and I don't know why. He wouldn't tell me so I just kinda…came here you know? You've been the one constant in the mess of my life and I needed to see you."

Amelia's breath catches, she knows Sam didn't mean it that way, but to hear him say that and to have so much reliance on her, it felt…good. And god knows it shouldn't, not with a patient with DID and problems with codependency. All Sam is doing here is switching his reliance from one person to another, but Amelia can't help feel want and desire towards him.

She swallows and collects her thoughts, on the clock or not, she's a medical professional. "I know Sam, thank you for coming to me, it's good to see you again too. But if the hospital is off limits…" she pauses for a moment, knowing that what she's saying is completely illegal given Sam is a runaway and she should be calling someone to bring him back right now, but she continues, "let's give it a shot here?"

Sam's eyes light up as he stares at her, hope on his face and his pink lips in a slight smile. Fuck, she wants to press her lips against that smile, and with that thought she looks away from Sam and down at her wedding ring. Kissing Sam would be illegal and wrong in every single way but she warily continues: "can you ask the Tin Man to come out? I would like to talk to him."

The hope vanishes from Sam's face, "why?" Jealously rises in him, first Dean prefers that coldless bastard over him and now Dr. Richardson wants to talk to him instead of the real Sam. As if the real Sam isn't good enough.

"Since he was the one in control when you blacked out, correct? All I want to do is piece together what happened during those weeks, do you want me to record this, Sam?"

The jealously starts to disappear, Dr. Richardson makes sense, she always makes sense. So, Sam nods, "yeah."

Amelia pulls out her work laptop and sets up the webcam on Sam, who currently is silently sitting there, in what she assumes is his way of speaking to the other two inside of his mind. It was hard at first, getting Sam to be able to communicate with the two other alters, but it got easier for him, and a few seconds later the Tin Man appears as Sam's unconscious glazy eyes turn into a predator's glare.

"I've been watching you," he smiles that fake smile that never quite reaches his eyes, "you're practically a swooning school girl after little ole Sammy here."

She slowly sits down after hitting the record button on the webcam, trying not to let his words get to her, putting her professional front on as best as she can, "were you the one the escaped the hospital?"

"Me and Dean? Yeah. I've broken out of higher security joints than that dump, it was a cinch."

"How come you didn't break out before?"

The other Sam stares at her with curiosity, "oh, you know how we broke out. All I needed was someone from the outside with a stolen ID card to swipe the doors open and I was a free bird. Dean was more than happy to oblige."

Amelia did know this, it was easy to figure out the how but where the patient went was a whole different issue, "You and Dean, right? Have you been with him for the past few weeks?"

"It's habit really, he's a good hunter."

That was new, "he's a hunter? Do you hunt?"

Sam realizes his slip up and grins, "yeah, and I've got a kill count that would impress even Charles Manson."

"What have you been doing with Dean?"

"Hunting, mostly."

For an entire year Sam had never mentioned he hunted animals, lightly chews on her lips, wondering if there is any connection towards Sam killing animals and what he is experiencing now, "and when Dean was supposedly dead for the past year, did he tell you where he was and how he got back?"

"Yes and no," is his blunt and straight forward answer. Amelia raises her eyebrow when Sam is silent for several moments and then Sam takes that as a cue to continue: "He was in Purgatory for the last year but he hasn't told me how he got out besides the fact it wasn't built for humans."

She was definitely not expecting this answer, there was some definite religious undertones to Sam, particularly with the Cowardly Lion personality, but the Tin Man had never expressed any, "he was in Purgatory? Like the place between Heaven and Hell?"

"That's the one."

Amelia pauses for a moment, collecting her thoughts and then presses: "Sam, what do you kill on these hunts?"

"Monsters. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, leviathans, all the things that go bump in the night."

She needed her notes, that's what she needed, but the webcam video will suffice for now and she can piece this together later. But with a severely delusional patient like Sam, one who believes in supernatural beings and religious paranoia, not breaking his trust in her is important so she indulges in his delusions, "when you hunt these creatures, are you the hero?"

Sam stares at her for several moments, his eyes darkening, before widening as the primary Sam returns, "what?"

Amelia turns towards her computer and hits the stop button on the webcam recording and faces Sam again, "what was the last thing you remember Sam?"

"You asked me if I wanted this to be recorded and I said yes."

"Do they always leave you in the dark like that?"

Sam shrugs, "yeah, he thinks it's none of my business what he does in my body. The other one…you know, ain't too talkative."

Amelia brings up the recording, skipping the first 10 seconds where the Tin Man calls her a 'swooning school girl' and asks, "do you want to watch it?"

He stands up from the couch and walks over, closer to her and closer to the laptop, "yeah…did he do anything? Bad?"

"No, but he did tell me a lot of things I didn't know before."

Sam crouches down next to her leg, eyes level with the laptop on the table, and she presses 'play' and watches for any facial changes on her patient.

For her own use, she had recorded some of their sessions on tape recorders and on webcams, but had never shared them for Sam to watch until he was ready too. She catches the slight flinch in Sam when he sees the other alternate use his body and say these things he doesn't remember ever saying.

She continues to watch him, instead of the video, watching and admiring the curve of his nose and the angles of his jawline and notices him tensing up with the purgatory reveal.

There's silence as the clip ends and Sam runs his hand over his jaw, "you weren't supposed to know about that."

He's so close to touch now and she softly presses her hands on his shoulders, "it's okay Sam. I know now." She knows know that Sam, the deep core Sam, is suffering from these delusions too. Which is all the more reason she needs to take her hands off her patient, instead of letting him move forward and closer to her.

"Did you believe him…me?"

She doesn't, but she will believe it for the sake of her patient's recovery, she can't break his trust and let him think that she believes him to be crazy, "I believe you."

There's a look in Sam's eyes, something that she knows that Sam doesn't believe her when she says that. Something like monsters isn't something someone believes in without proof after all, but Sam's phone starts ringing and Sam stands up from where he was crouched by the laptop and leaves the room, putting the phone to his ear as he walks.

Amelia starts to follow him, but Sam is out of her front door before she can say another word.

* * *

When he finally gets to the docks where Dean and some other person is located, there's a feeling of relief coming back into him, that his brother is alive and well after that worrying phone call about taking down a vampire's nest.

He looks from Dean over to the unknown man, who is raising his hand towards Sam now, "I'm Benny."

Sam takes it, and with the hot humid night surrounding them both and the sudden dead like chill of the man's hand resting in his own, his hand automatically goes for the knife in hooked into his backside belt.

And he doesn't know whether or not he feels more betrayed over the fact that Dean ditched him to go off hunting with some vampire or that Dean felt more comfortable and at ease with another Sam instead of him.

Dean silently shakes his head, 'no', but Sam's jaw still stiffens as he watches the vampire back away, pat his brother's shoulder and dares to say to Dean, "I'll see you later, brother," before leaving.

'Benny and the Tin Man are my damn replacements' is the only thing on repeating through Sam's mind as he glares at Dean.


End file.
